


snow

by Waywarder



Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables, Christmas Fluff, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21616888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/pseuds/Waywarder
Summary: Oh, just a little snowfall fluff.Quote by Lewis Carroll.Part of Drawlight's 31 Days of Ineffables Holiday Challenge!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558789
Comments: 3
Kudos: 65





	snow

_“I wonder if the snow_ loves _the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently?”_

It was, technically, December 2, and Aziraphale was happy.

It was late into the night, and the festive candles that he had lit earlier that evening had all almost burnt out. The scent of wassail and pine still hung heavy in the air. And, as it had been for a few hours now, a sleeping demon’s head was still nestled comfortably in his lap. And Aziraphale, typically so eager to occupy his mind with a book in the face of quiet, sat still, not daring to move, barely daring to breathe. The only movement he allowed himself was the soft stroke of his fingertips against Crowley’s hair, over and over again. 

In lieu of a book, his mind repeated back to him the events of the evening: Crowley so nervous, Crowley holding mistletoe, Aziraphale’s heart nearly bursting, the pair winding their arms around another, their lips finally finally connecting… 

Aziraphale smiled at the memory, and at the possibility of their future together. A future that had once seemed so far out of reach, and was now suddenly at his fingertips. His fingertips that never ever wanted to part with Crowley’s lovely hair.

Something outside of the window caught Aziraphale’s attention. His Yultetide enthusiasm surged as he realized what he was seeing.

 _Snow._

As if his snake bones somehow sensed the new coldness in the world, Crowley shivered a little in his sleep, and tightened his body up into a ball. Aziraphale bent down as much as he could to whisper into the demon’s ear:

“Darling, look. It’s snowing.”

Crowley’s yellow eyes blinked open, bleary at first and then wide in surprise, as if sleep had robbed from him the memory of where he was, of what had happened. He looked up at Aziraphale in something like wonder.

“Snowing?” he muttered, sleepily.

“Look outside,” Aziraphale repeated. “It’s pretty.”

“No, _you’re_ pretty.” But Crowley reluctantly moved his head off of Aziraphale’s lap, and went to stand up, making his way towards the windows. Aziraphale followed behind him.

And they stood in silence for a moment, watching the snow fall. It blanketed the ground, soft and new and undisturbed. Aziraphale felt suddenly rather solemn. It was as if the Earth had no idea of how close it had come to the brink earlier just that year. This clean snowfall seemed an impossible luxury. And perhaps Crowley felt the same way, because his fingers sought Aziraphale’s, there in the near-dark, and intertwined them. They held each other tightly and surely.

“It is pretty,” Crowley agreed, softly.

“It’s wonderful,” Aziraphale felt almost tearful. The world was safe, and Crowley was holding his hand, and it was nearly Christmastime, and it _was_ wonderful. He turned to face Crowley. “You’re wonderful, you know.”

“Too sleepy for eloquence, angel,” Crowley admitted, so instead leaned forward to kiss Aziraphale softly. When he pulled away, his eyes stayed closed, and he seemed to sway a little where he stood. Aziraphale laughed.

“And what’s got you so worn out, then?”

“Kissing an angel’s hard work.”

“Oh, I see.”

So Aziraphale swept Crowley up into his arms, and carried him back to the sofa. And as sleep reclaimed Crowley, Aziraphale miracled a quilt, and laid it over the demon he loved. And Aziraphale pushed a stray lock of hair from off Crowley’s face, and, oh, that nearly made him cry as well. (He was _soft,_ as you all know.) And, like something out of a fairytale, Aziraphale kissed the sleeping Crowley. 

_“I wonder if the snow_ loves _the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt, and perhaps it says, “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.”_

Because the summer would indeed come again. But, for now, it was winter and snowing, and an angel and a demon were free to speak their love aloud and consider all the seasons to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
